


The Little Death

by Misericordemika



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Grayson (Comics), Nightwing (Comics), Under the Red Hood
Genre: Angst, Bad Ending, Character Death, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-26
Updated: 2016-01-26
Packaged: 2018-05-16 07:17:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5819275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Misericordemika/pseuds/Misericordemika
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drabble: Jason tracks Talon to a dark alley. A translation of 六時花's original work (with permission).</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Little Death

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [The Little Death](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/171103) by 六時花. 



> Note from original author: This is inspired by the BGM "O Death" from Until Dawn.  
> Note from translator: lyrics from the BGM appears in italics.

_O' Death. O' Death. Won't you spare me over 'til another year?_

_But what is this that I can't see, with ice-cold hands taking hold of me. When God is gone and the Devil takes hold, who will have mercy on my soul?_

* * *

"Fuck... Grayson, fuck you-" He breaks off mid-swear from a particularly violent thrust. Jason hitches a breath; he strains his neck to look at the man behind him. The movement is difficult, for his shoulder is forced down by a devastating grip. He is a stranger to his own body, having lost all control but for his head and neck. Partly aversive yet partly resigned, Jason stops struggling, bracing his forehead against the concrete brick wall stripped of all paint. 

Talon is cold. His touch. His kiss. Even his cock that is buried deep into Jason's body. Everything about him signifies something off - something different from a living person.

Jason could feel the coldness emanating from that body, mixed with a tinge of a familiar scent. It was subtle, but easily discerned as belonging to Nightwing, the blue bird above the skies of Blüdhaven. He almost laughs despite the situation. 

He couldn't see his face, but he could smell him. Ignoring the low body temperature, Jason could almost imagine that they have returned to the days past, when the two of them would fuck wherever and without reason. Alleyways and abandoned buildings were frequently decimated by their sessions. 

Jason still remembers that one time when they were at his safe house, when he expressed his pleasure regarding the comfort of a bed. Dick was taking him from behind, his lips against his ear, his voice sinful and full of mirth. 

"But you look like you feel it more when we are outside, Little Wing." 

A sharp pain interrupts his memories. "What the... fuck!" 

Talon has scooped an arm around his waist, pressing him against his body. When he is pushed even further into the wall with each rhythmic movement, Jason feels his hip bone crash against something protruding out of the shambling wall - maybe the edges of a brick, or maybe a steel beam. He has no idea what. His swearing is instinctive, especially when this Talon shows no response to whatever he says. Jason suspects that perhaps, he can't even understand basic speech. 

The movements stop. And before Jason could respond, Talon flips him over.

This time Jason didn't have the breath to swear. If he were honest with himself, this isn't the first time he has been treated as such. Dick was always one for novelty, and this extends to his skills in bed, to his countless tricks and maneuvers. 

But this is different. 

At least back then, Dick wasn't ice-cold. 

Jason feels that inorganic flesh - stiff and freezing and almost tool-like - grinding against every inch of his insides, against his trembling.

And finally, he sees his face. 

His eyes are hooded, the blue darkened to a drab grey. His skin is a stark white that easily showed the greenish vessels beneath, and the stagnant blood. His features at least, remains the same, but without expression.

Dick had always been full of expressions. Most of the time he had a smile, but besides that, whether he was angry or sad, or anything else, his emotions could be easily read. 

Unlike now, when everything, even his eyes, speak only of a disinterested coldness. 

Of course.

Because he is already dead.

He is dead.

The clock has stopped. Ended. Slept. Died.

It feels almost comical. He has known this - has known since Batman delivered the news. And yet it is only now that Jason fully comprehends.

Perhaps due to the prolonged contact with his own body, Jason could feel a measure of heat warming up Talon's skin. The guy seems almost alive. Worse, this arouses something within Jason. Truth be told, this Talon has been quite skilled from the very beginning, as if incredibly familiar with Jason's body, with every sensitive spot that triggers his moans.

Jason's breaths quicken, his vision blurs. A primal emotion washes over him.

They say Talons keep the skills they gain in life - perhaps this is one of them? Jason laughs at himself.

Talon and Dick are different. Unlike this mechanical, brutal, soldier violating him, Dick would have kissed him. Dick would have trailed his lips across his body, intermittently giving him a desiring kiss.

"Hey," Jason croaks. Sweat trickles down his temples, collecting into a single drop that leaves a dark stain on his armour.

Talon's expression wavers. Or perhaps it didn't - perhaps it was simply because of that reanimated brain losing connections. 

Jason no longer cares. He hooks his arms around Talon's neck, dragging him down for a kiss. 

He even tastes like death, a strange bitterness that spreads through Jason's mouth. Jason presses harder against those unmovable lips, grinding, biting, their teeth clashing together as their tongues tangle. 

The love-making session - if it can be called such - lasts inexplicably long. It heats up Talon's body until he could almost be called warm. 

Jason's eyes lose focus, one of his legs forced up at a difficult angle. He teeters, unable to support his balance with just one leg and allows himself to be propped against the wall by the Talon's grip. Floating close to climax yet unable to release, he struggles to breathe, his chest heaving like one drowning. He manages to seize Talon at the waist, riding on the flood of pleasure and unease. Letting out a guttural groan, Jason tenses, arching like a bow into Talon. The release leaves him trembling, weak, and it is only when he recovers that his grip loosens, his limp arms falling from Talon's waist. 

He watches those blue eyes veiled with grey, the face converging with the one in his memory. A smile graces his lips.

"Hey Dickie-bird." 

Darkness swamps him.

* * *

When he wakes, the night is still young, the alley still abandoned. His clothing has been adjusted, his body seemingly cleaned. In fact, by appearance alone, nothing seems to have happened. 

He staggers to his feet, every joint in his body screaming in protest - he doesn't want to figure out whether its due to the initial fight or the later clashes with the wall. 

What a joke.

From the moment he has determined to track down that Talon, the joke has been played on him. 

He grunts, a self-mockery. Red Hood dusts himself and turns his back on the alley. 

* * *

_O' I am death and none can tell, if I open the door to heaven or hell. No wealth, no land, no silver, nor gold. Nothing satisfies me but your soul._

_I'm Death I come to take the soul. Leave the body and leave it cold._

 


End file.
